end?—­I have to inform you that my dear son, Lars Anders Werner, has now led home, as his wedded wife, this Francisca Buren whom you see at his side.  Marriages are made in heaven, my children, and we will supplicate heaven to complete its work in blessing this conjugal pair.  We will this evening together drink a bumper to their prosperity.  That will do!  Now you can continue your dancing, my children.  Olof, come you here, and do your best in playing.”

While a murmur of exultation and congratulations went through the assembly, ma chere mere took me by the hand, and led me, together with Bear, into another room.  Here she ordered punch and glasses to be brought in.  In the interim she thrust her two elbows on the table, placed her clenched hands under her chin, and gazed steadfastly at me, but with a look which was rather gloomy than friendly.  Bear, perceiving that ma chere mere’s review embarrassed me, broached the subject of the harvest or rural affairs. Ma chere mere vented a few sighs, so deep that they rather resembled groans, appeared to make a violent effort to command herself, answered Bear’s questions, and on the arrival of the punch, drank to us, saying, with a serious look and voice, “Son and son’s wife, your health!” On this she grew more friendly, and said in a tone of pleasantry, which beseemed her very well, “Lars Anders, I don’t think people can say you have bought the calf in the sack.  Your wife does not by any means look in bad case, and has a pair of eyes to buy fish with.  Little she is, it is true; but ’Little and bold is often more than a match for the great.’”

I laughed, so did ma chere mere also; I began to understand her character and manner.  We gossiped a little while together in a lively manner, and I recounted some little adventures of travel, which amused her exceedingly.  After the lapse of an hour, we arose to take leave, and ma chere mere said, with a really charming smile, “I will not detain you this evening, delighted as I am to see you.  I can well imagine that home is attractive.  Stay at home to-morrow, if you will; but the day after to-morrow come and dine with me.  As to the rest, you know well that you are at all times welcome.  Fill now your glasses, and come and drink the folks’ health.  Sorrow we should keep to ourselves, but share joy in common.”

We went into the dancing-room with full glasses, ma chere mere leading the way as herald.  They were awaiting us with bumpers, and ma chere mere addressed the people something in this strain:—­“We must not indeed laugh until we get over the brook; but when we set out on the voyage of matrimony with piety and good sense, then may be applied the adage that ‘Well begun is half won’; and on that, my friends, we will drink a skoal to this wedded pair you see before you, and wish that both they and their posterity may ever ’sit in the vineyard of our Lord.’  Skoal!”